


Get Your Fix

by tendervittles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Food Kink, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendervittles/pseuds/tendervittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay has a bad habit; Domeric is a willing teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Your Fix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crookedneighbour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/gifts).



> My first attempt at Boltoncest, so it probably sucks (hah hah, IT'S AN UNINTENTIONAL PUN).
> 
> For crookedneighbour... thanks for being a great friend and source of creppy Bolton boners/feels. <33
> 
> Enjoy!

One of the first things Domeric notices about his new half-brother is that Ramsay is forever putting things in his mouth.

It first comes to his attention at lessons; Ramsay sucks at the tip of his quill, staining his teeth black with ink. His lips are full, and very pink, Domeric observes.

Then, at mealtimes, with their lord father, Ramsay sucks the meat from braised ribs and herb-roasted chicken, until the bones are clean and white.  He takes thick sausages into his mouth until grease runs down his chin, and then slurps juice from his fingers.

Across the table, Ramsay would meet Domeric’s eyes. Only then would the elder realize he was staring.

They share the same eyes, the two half-brothers; the pale icy gray that matches their father’s, but bodily, they differ. Ramsay is bulky where Domeric is lean, which could be attributed to the vast differences in their upbringings.

Nevertheless, and perhaps because of their vast differences, Domeric enjoys the presence of his younger brother and desires nothing more than to teach him.

Lord Roose would recommend a leeching, no doubt, but thus far such treatments have had no discernable effect on Ramsay’s behavior. As such, whenever Domeric watches his brother trailing fried dough dripping with syrup across his lips or just sucking at his teeth, Domeric strives not to fall to distraction and instead busies his mind with possible solutions to put an end to at least _these_ perverse performances.

So when he stumbles across his brother crotched in a hall, a cherry pie he’d no doubt filched from the kitchens balanced atop his knees, he feels the time is ripe for a lesson.

“You know, you look a whore when you do that.” Domeric comments bluntly.  He manages to keep his voice even, much as Father would have done.

Ramsay pauses in his languid licking at his palms and fingers, which are stained red.  “When I do what, brother?” He asks, grinning.  Before Domeric can reply, Ramsay is back at it, sucking each finger in quick succession, making obscene, wet squelching noises.

“That thing you do—putting everything in your mouth, sucking at it like a whore at a cock.”  Domeric is pleased that he doesn’t let his color rise while he says it.

“Oh, is that what I do?” Ramsay replies, the smirk still playing at his lips.  There is cherry filling smeared across his mouth.  It looks like blood.  “I hadn’t noticed.”

Ramsay is much too bold.  Domeric really _must_ put an end to this.

It is his duty as his father’s son.

“Come.” He orders and feels a swell of pride when Ramsay listens.  His younger brother uncurls himself slowly and rises.  They are of a height.  “Take that as well.” Domeric says, gesturing to the half-eaten contents of the pie tin.

Domeric leads Ramsay to his chambers. He isn’t quite sure what he intends to do with his willful half-brother, but it would not be proper to have it done in the middle of the hall.

“If I’m a whore, and you’ve taken me back to your chambers, what does that make you?” Ramsay asks mischievously, raising an eyebrow. His tongue is out again, flicking at his lips.

Heat settles low in Domeric’s belly. Clearly, Ramsay thinks this of this all as some jape. 

He _must_ be taught, Domeric tells himself, as Ramsay walks his fingers teasingly across Domeric’s groin, grinning lecherously as he does it.  His bastard brother is close to him now, so Domeric reaches and takes Ramsay by his messy black hair.  He maintains a good grip, firm, yet gentle, and guides Ramsay to his knees.

“You shouldn’t tease,” Domeric lectures, “And you shouldn’t steal from the kitchens either.  Some serving girl will be punished for your gluttony.”

Ramsay shrugs.  He is still grinning.

“But brother, I’m not a true Bolton like you are. What is it to me if some wench is beaten on my behalf?  Maintaining the order of this household is not _my_ responsibility, nor will it ever be...”

_But it will be mine someday_ , Domeric reflects.  His hand drops to his laces.  Ramsay’s eyes follow his movements hungrily.  He licks his lips again.

“No.” Domeric orders, “I want you messy.”

“Well in that case…” Ramsay reaches for the pilfered dessert, using his fingers to scoop a healthy portion of pie into his hand.  He purposefully takes his time bringing it to his mouth and then takes a bigger mouthful than he can reasonably handle.  Domeric watches to see if his brother will choke, but Ramsay swallows it down, his throat working visibly.

It stirs the trueborn Bolton.  Domeric continues unlacing himself, trying not to hurry. Ramsay wipes his hand across his mouth, leaving a wide crimson smear.

Fully erect now, Domeric frees himself from his smallclothes.  He doesn’t need Ramsay’s smile to tell him how excited his younger brother has become. His bastard blood often makes Ramsay give himself away, and Domeric is particularly observant.

The bad blood makes Ramsay impatient as well, and he reaches for Domeric immediately.  Domeric holds him back by his hair.

Ramsay huffs.  “You can’t call me a whore,” He pouts, “If you won’t use me like one.”

“A good whore doesn’t act insolent when a lord comes calling.” Domeric retorts.  He jerks Ramsay’s head back to emphasize his point.

His brother whines.  He really needs this; Domeric can tell by the wet mark on Ramsay’s breeches.  He sighs.

“No hands,” He tells Ramsay sternly, “You haven’t been very patient.  _And_ you stole.”

Still on his knees, Ramsay shuffles closer. His throat is warm and wet as he takes his brother’s length in his mouth.  Domeric can’t help but be impressed; Ramsay strains and wriggles, opening himself up to the intrusion, taking Domeric deeper.

When Ramsay finally pulls off him to draw a breath, he’s left a film of red pie filling around Domeric’s cock, nearly at the base of him.  Domeric allows his brother a small smile and strokes his hair.

“I suppose your preoccupation with sucking at everything does have some uses.”

“You mean, purpose besides stirring my big brother?” Ramsay teases.  Domeric doesn’t let the mockery get to him.  He only tightens his fingers and thrusts himself back into Ramsay’s mouth.

Ramsay gags, but his hands never leave their position, folded behind his back. 

Domeric is very proud of him. 

He is proud of himself as well, for this improvement is a result of his work and patience and careful planning.

He’ll make a fine lord someday.

Moments later, that thought, coupled with Ramsay’s mouth working up and down his cock, tips Domeric over the edge.  Ramsay keeps sucking at him, even as Domeric’s cock twitches and he spills himself into his brother’s waiting mouth.

* * *

 

Later, they lounge together in Domeric’s bed. Ramsay snuggles against Domeric the elder trails his fingers through Ramsay’s hair.  “You did well.” Domeric murmurs.  He feels Ramsay’s lips curl into a smile against his chest.

His brother’s hands start to wander, tracing a path down Domeric’s sides.  Domeric restrains him easily with just the slightest pressure of his fingers pressed into Ramsay’s wrist. 

In the soft candlelight, Domeric can see that his seed still clings to the corner of Ramsay’s mouth.  He lifts a hand to wipe it away.  This time Ramsay catches his wrist and slowly brings Domeric’s fingers to his mouth to clean them.

Domeric lets him work.  When he feels he is clean enough, he tries to withdraw his fingers, but Ramsay whines petulantly and tightens his grip on Domeric’s wrist.

“Oh, all right.” Domeric murmurs.  His brother sighs contentedly and closes his eyes. Letting Ramsay nurse on his fingers is keeping him calm; it seems like he will sleep soon.

Domeric lets his own eyes drift shut. He relaxes back against his pillows.  _It wouldn’t do to let Father catch them like this_. But he is too comfortable to worry over consequences.

The candle burns out and soon enough both brothers are asleep.


End file.
